


Never a Good Day

by cj2017



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-13
Updated: 2009-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cj2017/pseuds/cj2017
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced off the road after a routine mission, Sarah and Derek fight to survive the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Category: Bit of action, bit of medical, lots of Sarah &amp; Derek H/C. If you've read Under The Influence and Watching Not Sleeping… you probably know what you're letting yourself in for…
> 
> Word Count: About 21,000, all told. This part 3,700.
> 
> Notes: This started out as me mucking about with an empty writing pad on a nice sunny day. "I'm bored… oh I know, I'll throw Sarah and Derek down an embankment…" The bloody thing then took on a life of its own, took a few diversions, got an almost-plot, headed straight out of canon and ended up being quite long. I never meant it that way, it just happened. If I were to place it within the episode order, it comes after Some Must Watch…, and before Ourselves Alone, and liberally abandons absolutely everything thereafter.
> 
> Thanks, a million thanks to Cat, who's lived with my Sarah Connor craziness for months now, beta-reads without complaint and holds my hand whilst posting. Huge thanks also to RoxyB for wheedling out my Britisms and all my firearm-related snafus.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did.

**   
**

~ ~ ~

**_Never a Good Day… _1/6__**

~ ~ ~

 

               “Sarah, buckle up.”

               “What?” She came awake slowly, her voice confused and distant.

               “Seatbelt. Now.” Derek pushed down hard on the gas, cursing himself for not having spotted their tail until now. Not until it was bearing down on them, headlights snapped suddenly onto high beam as its speed had increased to match theirs. It had been a long day – hours of watching and waiting and traveling – and they were both tired, but that was no excuse.

               “Fuck.” She was getting the message, and jerked her belt into place with one hand as she pulled her Glock free with the other. She checked the clip, craning her neck around to gauge distance and range.

               “Two in there, I think. How long?”

               “How long what?”

               “Have they been behind us?”

               “I don’t know. We rounded a bend. There they were.”

The road was unlit, shrouded by trees, edged by a steep drop-off and absolutely perfect for an ambush.

“Kaliba?” Sarah reached for the shotgun, wishing she’d packed grenades.

“You pissed off anyone else today?”

“Just a woman in the 7-11. She wanted that jerky that you wanted.”

Derek smiled briefly. They were in trouble and they both knew it, but you had to respect a woman who could keep her sense of humor in a crisis.

“Ahh, it was worth it. Shit. Hold on.”

She braced herself as the truck behind them hit their bumper and pushed them violently along the road. Derek was fighting to control the steering; Sarah swore under her breath, flicked her belt off and lowered her window.

“Aim for the windshield.”

“Fuck, Derek. I think I’ll just aim for the _truck_.”

She managed to fire a couple of shots off, one wide, one pinging ineffectually off the body work, and she ducked back inside when they were hit by a second, more vicious jolt.

“Son of a bitch.” Throwing caution to the wind, Derek was utilizing all of the road, hurtling around blind bends and sending up sprays of gravel as he careened along the verge.

“No signal. Shit.” She pocketed her cell phone and vented her frustration with the shotgun, scoring a bulls-eye on the windshield of their pursuers, which cracked and splintered like a spider’s web but didn’t shatter.

“Well, if they weren’t pissed before...”

“Yeah, I don’t…”

She never completed the sentence. The truck hit them as they encountered a hairpin, sending them spinning wildly out of control. With a strangled yell, Derek tried and failed to turn into the skid, but a second, perfectly timed blow threw them off the road, down the embankment and into the void.

~ ~ ~

               Sarah couldn’t connect the sounds. She couldn’t reconcile the persistent hissing with the deep, guttural snoring. Her head was cushioned against something sticky but warm, and the smell of explosives tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she was still in the truck, pressed up against a mostly deflated airbag which accounted for the firework smell. The tackiness coating the airbag was her own blood. When she tried to use her left arm to find the source of the bleeding, unexpected pain bit in so ferociously that all she wanted to do was curl up very quietly into a ball and not move at all. Instead, she swore again and again, biting a lip that had already had a tooth forced into it, and tried not to pass out. There was definitely a fracture there; she could feel the snapped ends of the bones in her forearm shifting and grating against each other, as it refused to go where she wanted it to. In the end, she stopped trying, leaving it by her side as she waited for the pain to become manageable.

               “Derek?” Her voice was shaky and barely audible. Turning her head to the left, she saw that it was him making the snoring sounds, his airway occluded as his head lolled forward. Using her good hand, she pushed him back against the seat and tipped his chin carefully, before trying again to rouse him.

               “Derek. Wake the fuck up. _Now_.” That was much better. It still didn’t work, but it sounded far less pathetic. He had taken a knock to the head; she could see the laceration on his scalp, and she ran her hand across his torso, then along the back of his neck and the limbs she could reach, feeling for fractures or blood. She was about to start on his right arm when his eyes snapped open and he caught hold of her wrist. She moaned softly, his grip hurting her, and he dropped her arm immediately, his eyes wide.

               “Fuck. Sorry.” He was blinking rapidly, trying to orientate himself. “Oh shit. How far down are we?”

               She shook her head, wincing at the pain the motion caused. “I don’t know. You need to switch the engine off… The lights.”

Steam was hissing from the engine, but the headlights were still blaring, advertizing their location to the men up above. Derek turned the ignition key quickly and the truck fell into darkness. He craned his head upwards, towards the road, and saw the high beams of their assailant’s vehicle, angled to light up the direction they had travelled in. The high beams cut out abruptly, and two separate flashlight beams scanned the area, then began to make a gradual descent.

“They’re coming down. We have to get out of here.”

She nodded, already trying to move, but the pain in her arm was making her stomach churn, and dizziness hampered her efforts. Derek listened to the irregular cadence of her breathing as he assessed his own injuries. He hadn’t fared too badly. Unlike her, he had been wearing a seatbelt, and, aside from a cut to the head and bruises that would feel a lot worse when the adrenaline wore off, he couldn’t detect anything major.

“Sarah, where are you hurt?” He had decided not to give her the option of lying. What concerned him the most was that she didn’t even try.

“Left arm.” She caught her breath on a sob. “It’s broken. And… a couple of ribs on the right, I think.”

He remembered her desperate attempt to brace herself against the dashboard as the truck had hurtled down the embankment. The resultant head-on impact with a tree had probably snapped her arm.

“Stay still. I’ll come around.”

The door was crumpled shut, so he clambered out of the window, dismissing a sudden pain in his ankle as insignificant. Opening the trunk, he pulled out their first aid kit, a flashlight and his own duffel bag, grateful beyond words that he had thought to pack it. By the time he got to Sarah’s side, she had opened her door, but hadn’t quite managed to get out.

“Just…” He put his hand up. “Just be still, Sarah.”

He switched the flashlight on and played it quickly over her face, dropping it lower as she shied away from the light. There was a jagged laceration just below her hairline, oozing blood down the length of her face. She looked pale and sick with pain, closing her eyes tightly when he directed the light at her arm.

“Damn.” He had said it out loud before he realized, and he felt like kicking himself.

“How bad?”

Her arm was hanging limply as if she had no control over its movement. The two bones of her forearm were obviously fractured mid-shaft; the broken ends pressed up against the skin so tautly that their whiteness could clearly be seen, glistening below its surface.

“Bad enough to need setting.” It was also bad enough to need pinning surgically, but they could worry about that later; right now, dealing with a potential hospital trip was the least of their problems.

“Shit.” She swallowed heavily. “We don’t have the main kit.”

“What?”

“The main first aid kit, we didn’t bring it.”

He looked down at the kit he had pulled from the trunk, and realized that she was right; they had a much more comprehensive one in the garage.

“Why the hell did we leave it behind?”

“Because we were doing surveillance. I wasn’t anticipating major fucking surgery!”

“Okay, okay. Just. Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, brought it down again, stained with blood. “Fuck. Right, can you move? We’re sitting ducks here.”

She nodded, swinging her legs around slowly and managing not to make a sound as she stood; she just swayed gently and tried to support her bad arm with her good.

Derek dragged the shotgun and Sarah’s Glock from her side of the footwell, and tucked her weapon into the back of her jeans.

She smiled at the gesture. “Thanks. But when the bad guys show up, can _you_ try and shoot them?”

“Absolutely.” He dumped the first aid kit into his pack and gestured ahead of himself with the flashlight. “We just need to put a bit of distance between us and the truck. Then we can get you fixed up, okay?”

“Okay. I’m fine.”

He didn’t comment, but just started to pick a path through the undergrowth, listening for any sounds of pursuit, but not hearing any. The terrain was rough underfoot, slippery with recent rainfall and uneven with tangled roots and small shrubs taking up the space between the trees that loomed up everywhere out of the darkness. It was a good place to try and stay lost, and an absolute nightmare to navigate a way through when you were in a hurry and injured.

He did his best, trying to break a trail for Sarah without leaving the flattened undergrowth equivalent of a neon sign screaming: _we went this way!_ He marched her for as long as he dared, and she kept up with the pace he set. She was mostly silent, aside from the occasional curse when she stumbled or jarred her arm against an obstacle she had been unable to avoid. He noticed when the cursing became more frequent, and then when she slipped one time and stayed down for a minute. She was scrambling up again when he went back for her, but he knew she had had enough.

“C’mon.”

He put his arm around her waist and guided her towards a tree, away from their path, helping her to sit at its base. She leaned back against its trunk, closing her eyes and working hard to regain control of her breathing. Turning away from her, he opened the first aid kit and selected dressings and a triangular bandage. His search for pain killers turned up Tylenol and six low dose codeine that would probably fail to make a dent in his own headache, and would do even less for a fracture as serious as hers. Still, they were better than nothing; he palmed two of each, took the top off his canteen and turned back to her.

“Take these.”

She drew in a breath, as if readying herself to speak, but he cut her off.

“Don’t argue. They’ll do fuck all for your arm, but they might help with all those other injuries you’ve discovered while you’ve been walking and haven’t told me about yet.”

She smiled softly and shrugged with one shoulder. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine. You’ve been walking in front of me, so I know that you’re limping.”

He shook his head, unable to believe that, while she had been staggering along behind him in the dark, she had still been able to analyze his gait.

“Okay, fine. We’re both wrecked, but I’m going to make an executive decision – based on the fact that all of my bones are intact – and let you have the codeine. So here…”

“I wasn’t going to argue.”

“No?” Derek looked as shocked as he sounded.

“No. I just don’t have a free hand, so…”

Her voice trailed off, and he realized that she was embarrassed, and that he had just made everything worse by forcing her to spell things out to him.

“Shit.” He felt like an idiot. “Here…” One by one, he placed the tablets between her lips and held the canteen for her to drink. She shook her head when she had finished. He lowered the water, then followed her example and took two of the Tylenol himself.

She had closed her eyes again, her knees drawn up as sweat beaded on her forehead. Glancing at her arm, he knew that he’d be flying by the seat of his pants trying to reduce the fracture. He had seen it done, but his role in the proceedings had mainly involved holding the victim still as he or she thrashed around and tried not to scream in front of their squad.

If he actually did manage to make an improvement, her arm would need splinting afterwards; he cast about, searching for flat pieces of wood or bark, but finding nothing suitable. A sudden flash of inspiration made him stop kicking futilely amongst the leaf-litter; he dug deeply into his duffel bag, pulling out a large hunting knife in a leather sheath. The sheath was perfect – firm but malleable, and just about the right length. He used the knife to cut long strips of bandage, then decided that he was delaying the inevitable and carried the equipment over to Sarah, kneeling down beside her.

“Sarah. You ready?”

She shook her head once but answered “yes,” and dropped her legs straight to allow him access to her arm.

“You have to be quiet.”

“I know.”

“Do you want something to bite on?”

She opened one eye, trying to establish whether he was making a joke, but his face was deadly serious. She took an unsteady breath. “No.”           

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“I know.”

He took hold of her left arm in both of his hands. She dropped her right arm away, digging her fingers into the fabric of her jeans and screwing the cloth up so tightly that her knuckles gleamed white in the moonlight.

Her forearm sagged mid-shaft, at the point of the fracture. He placed his hands above and below, gripping tightly and ignoring the nauseating shift beneath his fingers. He took a deep breath, then pulled, creating a steady, continuous traction and counter-traction, using his uppermost hand to guide the bones back into place.

It was easier to focus on the procedure: how far to pull, how the bones slipped and edged back, how the hand he was holding became warmer slowly as adequate circulation was restored, and it immediately reacted to the stress he was causing. It was easier to focus on all of that, because otherwise he would have focused on Sarah. He would have heard the low, desperate moan she couldn’t quite hold back, and the blood that spilled from her lip as she bit into it again. He would have seen her hand come up towards his to try and stop him, as he jarred the bones awkwardly and had to pull harder to correct his error. He would have heard her feet digging into the dirt to prevent herself getting up and running away.

So he concentrated instead on what he was doing, until her arm ran smooth beneath his fingers and he felt her slump back against the tree as the pain finally relaxed its grip on her. She panted shallowly, fighting to remain conscious.

“Nearly done, Sarah. Can you help me hold this?”

She stared at him, attempting to comprehend what he was asking her to do. He took her good hand in his and showed her where he needed her support. She managed to hold the sheath in place beneath her arm, as he wrapped bandages firmly around his make-shift splint, taking over from her when her hand shook and she had to drop it to her side.

“Can you feel your fingers?”

She nodded.

“No tingling or numbness?”

“No.” There was no moisture in her mouth to speak with, and she licked her lips, tasting the blood there. “Not anymore.”

“You gonna pass out on me?”

She raised an eyebrow with a quirk of her lips. “Think it would’ve happened by now.”

“You’re probably right.” He secured her arm in a sling, and she held her hair out of the way while he tied the knot. “You mind if I do?”

A small smile. “Be my guest.”

He rocked back on his heels, assessing his efforts. “Maybe later. How’s that feel? ”

“Better.” She was slightly less ashen than she had been just minutes ago. She still looked awful, but he considered any improvement to be a positive thing. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He soaked a piece of gauze with water and carefully wiped her face for her. “Any time, Connor.”

“We’re in deep shit, aren’t we?” Leaning back against the tree with a shaky sigh, she reached behind herself to try and pull her gun free.

“Here.” He tugged it loose, checked the clip and handed it to her, grip first. She held it firmly, taking comfort in its familiar weight.

Brushing the hair from her forehead, he used the gauze to clean the laceration that was still bleeding steadily down her cheek. “I think our odds have been better,” he said, in answer to her original question.

“Metal?”

“Not sure. Possibly not.”

“They were pretty fucking precise on the road, Derek.” The pain and the growing feeling of being trapped and hunted were beginning to eat away at her nerves.

“They probably just _knew_ the road. That point they hit us at was a deliberate choice. Did you notice the guardrail was missing?”

She had. They had been forced right between a gap that had already been created by a previous accident.

“Metal would have been down on us by now, and it wouldn’t give a fuck about keeping quiet.”

“Good point.” Sarah nodded in agreement, feeling slightly more optimistic about their chances.

Derek gave a low growl of frustration, he was still holding the gauze firmly against her forehead. “Would you do me a favor and stop bleeding?”

“Sorry.” She sounded genuinely contrite.

“It’s a mess. It needs stitches.” There was nothing in their kit to suture with. He began to place butterfly stitches along the wound, doing his best to close it. “I may as well be pissing in the wind here.” He taped a piece of gauze across it for good measure and watched as it quickly stained with crimson.

Sarah felt the blood begin to trickle free again and decided that a change in focus was in order. “So, what’s wrong with your leg?”

“Not sure. Sprain probably, might’ve caught my foot under a pedal on the way down.”

“Sometime during our glorious, controlled descent?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” He stopped frowning at his failure with her head injury and grinned, relieved that she was feeling up to joking with him. “I’ll live. The Tylenol’s helped. So, ribs?”

She shrugged. “I’ll live. The Tylenol _and_ the codeine’s helped.”

“Touché. Breathing okay?”

“Fine.” She touched a hand to her side, pressing carefully. She knew she had a couple of fractures there. Broken ribs had a special kind of pain all of their own.

Before she could stop him, he was lifting her sweater away and placing his own hand over the livid purple contusion he revealed. “Deep breath.”

She tried, breathing in until the pain made her breath hitch, and she winced.

“Maybe a couple broken. They’ve not hit your lung.” He studied the shape of the bruising. “From your elbow, I think, during the impact.”

It was a common car crash injury, something Sarah was all too aware of. It seemed that every time she got in a vehicle, the damn thing ended up in bits.

“Here.” Derek gave her the canteen and she took a couple of sips, relieved when they didn’t make an immediate reappearance. “We need to get moving.”

“Okay.” Any minute now, she’d get right up.

He stood and held his hand out. She hesitated briefly, then realized she was being stupid, and allowed him to help her up. He steadied her when a head-rush almost put her straight back onto the floor, then moved away, off to her side, aware that the night’s events had been working hard to rob her of her dignity.

“All set?”

“All set.” She sounded far more certain than she felt. “Do we have a plan?”

“Not really. I’d like to stay alive if possible.”

It seemed like a reasonable proposal and she nodded. She fell in behind him automatically, and decided – at this particular point – that just remaining on her feet would be a pretty good strategy.

~ ~ ~

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

~ ~ ~

** _Never a Good Day… 2/6_ **

~ ~ ~

               “We’ve got company.” Derek had stopped sharply, holding his hand up to signal to Sarah not to move. She had only just seen the gesture in time, her concentration largely centered on putting one foot in front of the other, and not accidentally shooting Derek. She listened to the trees creak and bend in the wind, the rustle of something small moving urgently through the fallen leaves, and then heard the distinct crack and thud of something larger, moving in their direction. Whoever, _whatever_ it was, was trying to be discrete and wasn’t far away.

               Derek held up one finger and she nodded in agreement; she couldn’t hear a second person. The thought that their attackers were working to a strategy made her incredibly uneasy, especially when they didn’t have one themselves. By contrast, the expression on Derek’s face implied he actually preferred the idea of dividing and conquering. He moved right next to her and spoke directly into her ear.

               “Do you hear the water?”

               “Yes.” Every now and again, when the wind had changed direction, it had carried the rushing sound of a river towards them.

       “We can head down to it. The terrain might be a little easier, more open. Maybe we can find some place to hide, wait them out and pick them off one by one.”              

               It was a sensible tactic and she didn’t argue. She just continued ahead when he did, relieved that Derek’s idea hadn’t involved swimming or wading, because it was taking every ounce of her strength to walk on dry land.

~ ~ ~

               “Okay, we can stop and rest for a minute.” Derek handed Sarah the canteen, dropped his bag and readied the shotgun – scanning into the dark – as she drank. She didn’t speak, just held onto the water and took advantage of the unexpected respite. They had made good progress, despite weaving and doubling back in order to make it more confusing for their pursuer.

The extra effort had taken its toll, and for the last half hour Sarah had looked as if she was about to collapse. Satisfied that there was no one behind them, he stared at her, not sure exactly what was going on, plagued by a nagging suspicion that she had internal injuries she was concealing from him. He was still watching her when the cloud cover cleared temporarily to reveal a full moon, whose pale light illuminated the blood that had coated one side of her face and travelled thickly down her neck. Her dark sweater had an unnatural sheen to it and was clinging wetly to her.

               “Shit, Sarah.” He touched a hand to her chest and it came away soaked.

               “Hmm?” She opened her eyes, not entirely sure why he seemed angry.

               “Why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding like this?” He held his palm up, slick and bright scarlet in the moonlight. “Fuck.” Shaking his head, he realized his own attempts to clean and dress the wound had probably precipitated the hemorrhage by disturbing something that had initially managed to clot. He pulled out a thick wad of gauze and handed it to her, pressing her hand and the dressing over the laceration. “You have to keep it on, tight.”

               She sucked in a hiss of pain but did as she was told, unable to grasp what all the fuss was about. Now they had stopped, she felt light-headed, and decided that sitting down would probably be for the best. That made him look extremely worried; he swore again, then he was laying her back gently and lifting her feet to prop them up on his bag.

               “Don’t you fucking _dare_ pass out on me, Connor.”

               Was that what she was doing? She was freezing cold and incredibly tired, but she heard the fear edging into Derek’s voice and forced her eyes to open. She took slow breaths in through her nose and tried hard not to throw up on herself as she watched him wrap a thick bandage around her head to keep pressure on the bleed. It seemed like hours but was probably only minutes before the terrible fading-out feeling began to ease. She held a hand out to him to help her sit up. He said nothing, just tucked an arm around her and gave her the canteen again.

               “Drink what you can, you need the fluids.”

               “Don’t I get cookies and juice?”

               It took him a few seconds to place the reference – in his future, blood donation was mandatory, every eight weeks – and he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think it counts if we have to wring it out of your clothing.”

               “Damn.”

               “Do you want something to eat? There’s chocolate, trail bars…”

               “I don’t think so. Not right now.”

               He helped himself to a couple of pieces of chocolate and moved his hand up to check her dressing. It was only slightly wet when he pulled it away. “Here, put this on. It’ll give them less to aim at.”

               She had no idea where he had found the black woolen hat, but she let him pull it over her head, to prevent the white bandage standing out like a target.

               “What time do you think we’ll be missed?” His watch lit up eleven p.m.

               “Not yet. Long drive home. Maybe morning. I don’t want John out here.” She gave him the canteen and motioned that they should move, motivated by the thought of preventing her son’s involvement in this current crisis.

               “To the river, then.”

               “Yeah. Lead on.”

~ ~ ~

               “That’s a nice touch.” Derek nodded at the blood-soaked gauze that Sarah had _accidentally_ dropped onto their trail.

               “I thought so.”

               For the past hour, their carefully disguised trail had become increasingly sloppy and easier to pick out. Not to the extent that the man behind would feel he was being led into a trap, but enough to lull him into thinking that he was hunting down prey weakened by injuries and consequently prone to making mistakes. They had decided that if they could take down one of the men, they would then begin the climb back up to the road and try to hijack the truck that had been abandoned there. It was the only logical course of action, and neither of them was willing to discuss the myriad ways in which it was all likely to go to shit.

They were almost at the river, glimpses of the swirling rapids and inky water appearing more frequently through the trees as the swell of its noise became louder.

“Careful here.” He indicated a boggy section of ground where the river had burst the confines of its bank after the recent heavy rainfall.

Sarah walked through, feeling icy dampness seep into her boots and shrugging it off as the latest in a long line of discomforts.

“Well, I guess we won’t be crossing that.” Derek was the first to state the obvious.

Standing side by side, they stared out across the expanse of rushing water. The water level was still high, and the river was tumbling debris along in its path and spraying a chill mist into their faces as the wind swirled across its exposed banks.

Sarah moved away first, scanning for a sheltered area where they could watch and wait and stay dry. She headed off to her left, towards a mess of rocks and boulders, and whistled a quick signal to Derek when he turned from the water to look for her.

“We should be good here. If he’s followed us directly, we’ll be able to see him for the last fifty yards or so.”

He was nodding, dropping his bag down amongst the rocks and scoping out the best view of their path.

Kicking a few small stones aside, she lowered herself to the ground, leaning back against a moss-covered boulder and closing her eyes. She didn’t feel too good. Every time they stopped, the basic survival instinct that was keeping her on her feet seemed to weaken, and all she felt like doing was lying down and going to sleep. Her arm and chest throbbed constantly, ebbing away her strength as surely as the wound on her head, which had now soaked through the third dressing that Derek had applied. She heard him move beside her and muttered a weak protest as he pulled her forward, but all he did was wrap his jacket around her shoulders; she realized then how violently she had been shivering. He pressed the water into her hand and frowned when she didn’t drink it.

“Sarah…”

She shook her head once. “I think I’ll be sick.” Setting the canteen down, she wrapped her fingers around the gun in her lap. It felt heavy in her hand. “You should go back up.”

Her voice was so quiet that it took Derek a moment to work out what she had said, and she watched him as he realized exactly what she was admitting to.

“No.”

She held her hand up, the Glock clasped in it, and he said nothing as her arm shook and she dropped it heavily to her side. “I’m slowing you down. Distracting you. I can’t even hold my fucking gun.”

“No. Way.”

“Derek, one of us has to get home.”

He stared at her, stunned, and shook his head forcefully. “I am not leaving you here, Sarah. So just drop it.” He turned away from her, lifted the shotgun and sighted it on their path. Behind him, he heard her swallow a mouthful of water, then retch quietly, and he realized with a growing sense of dread that what she was asking of him was probably their best hope of surviving.

~ ~ ~

               “I think this is working.” Derek had cut most of the bandages from Sarah’s head and was sitting beside her, applying pressure directly over the wound.

               “Mmm.” Her face was set in a frown as she tried to ignore the pain.

               “Well, either that or your blood pressure is so shit, you just don’t have the energy to bleed anymore.”

               She smiled. “Yeah. I’d go for that one.”

               There had been no sign of anyone coming down their trail and, mindful of their limited options, he was taking the opportunity to regain the initiative and improve Sarah’s chances.

               “You may’ve nicked an artery. I know head wounds bleed a lot, but this is ridiculous.”

               “This whole situation is fucking ridiculous.”

               The tension and frustration in her voice were unmistakable, so he tried to focus on the positives. “I guess we must be on the right track though, with Kaliba. Guess your three dots theory wasn’t so crazy after all.”

               “Apology accepted.”

               He laughed quietly, shifting his fingers as they started to cramp. “Think we’ll ever stop it?”

               She looked at him and knew that he wasn’t talking about her bleeding. His face was serious, waiting for her answer and she hesitated then nodded slowly. “I have to believe that we can.”

               “For John’s sake?”

               “For John’s sake.” Such a simple truth, but that was what it all boiled down to. Saving humanity was a bonus, but Sarah was fighting to change her son’s fate. “I don’t remember what a normal life is. I’m not even sure that I want one. But I know that I don’t want this, and I don’t want this for John.”

               So much had happened to them recently, and it had taken its toll. She sounded utterly weary, tired of hurting and being hurt and trying so hard to fight for a son whose words, when he could bring himself to speak to her, held nothing but recrimination and bitterness.

               “I don’t want to lose my son.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “But he’s changing so much. Sometimes I don’t recognize him.”

               “He needs to change, Sarah. If we fail, he needs to change.”

               “I see him becoming _your_ John.” She looked directly at him, daring him to challenge her. “And your John sounds like an asshole.”

               He didn’t, _couldn’t_ dispute that. The John Connor of his future _was_ an asshole: brilliant at what he did, but completely isolated from the people he was fighting to save. It was always going to be next to impossible for Connor to make the choices that he had to; only the hardest of souls could send his own father back through time to a certain death, but Derek’s John had made emotional detachment into an art form, and was admired, but held in no affection, by the people he commanded.

               Derek dropped his hand from Sarah’s forehead. He watched as a bead of blood slowly formed, and caught it before it fell, satisfied that the worst of the hemorrhage had abated. He secured a fresh dressing into place and added a thicker one on top for good measure. She smiled sadly at him when he tipped her chin with his finger, still waiting for him to contradict her.

               “You’re right, y’know. My John is an asshole. _Our_ John has an advantage, though.”

               “Yeah?”

               “Yeah. He still has you.”

               She stared at him, her throat too tight with emotion to allow her to speak. He touched his thumb gently to her cheek, then dropped his hand away, letting her know that she didn’t have to.

Picking the shotgun up, he rustled in his pack, pulling out a bar of chocolate and breaking it in half. She shook her head when he offered her a piece, but he pressed it into her hand anyway before taking a bite of his own. “I’ve been stockpiling these… just in case.”

               She nibbled a tiny edge experimentally. “No chocolate after the world ends, huh?”

               “No. It’s a fucking tragedy.”

               He sounded genuinely devastated and she shook her head in mock despair over his choice of priorities. “Guess we’d better win, then.”

               He pumped the shotgun and turned away from her. “It’s all that gets me out of bed in the morning.”

~ ~ ~

               From her vantage point, Sarah couldn’t see the man cautiously making his way down their trail, but she noticed the shift in Derek’s position as he trained the shotgun on his target and waited. They were packed up and ready to move, aware that the noise they were about to make would immediately alert the second man, whose location remained concealed. She watched Derek’s finger tense on the trigger and held her breath, knowing that a man would probably die in the next few seconds, and feeling a fleeting sorrow that that knowledge didn’t impel her to prevent it from happening.

               The crack of the shot made her jump, her heart thudding as she listened to the body fall.

               “Stay here.” Derek was standing up, the shotgun now discarded and replaced by his handgun. He clasped it tightly in a two-handed grip, and began to edge towards where his target lay.

               “Derek…” Her voice held a note of warning, unease prickling at the nape of her neck. The man wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting up, but that didn’t mean that he was dead. Metal _always_ played dead.

               “I know. But if it’s metal, we’re dead anyway. Human, he may have equipment we can use. I can dump him in the river, that way the other guy won’t know where we started back up.”

               She nodded once, but dragged the shotgun towards her and fumbled one-handed to reload it. She knew that she could fire it with one hand – she had done it before – and having a ready arsenal around her had always been a comfort.

               It must have been immediately apparent from the damage inflicted upon it that the body was human, because Derek gave her a quick _thumbs up_, then set about searching it. A stinging in her hand made her look down; she realized that her grip around the barrel of the shotgun was so tight that her fingernails had bitten into her palm, tiny crescents of blood drawn in their wake. She relaxed her hold and watched as he began to drag the body towards the river, disappearing from view as he neared the water.

               Her hand twitched instinctively around the shotgun when she heard the snap of the branch, but her reactions were dulled by blood-loss and pain, and she realized too late that she would need to stand to use it. She wasn’t quick enough to reach for her Glock before it had been thrown out of her lap and a hand pressed tightly across her mouth.

               “Not a fucking sound.”

               The man was already pulling her up, dragging her with one of his arms across her throat and the other still clamped over her mouth. When she forced herself to go limp, he struggled with her weight, snarling with anger and kicking hard at her legs until she cooperated and staggered with him. The rough movement reignited the agony in her arm and chest, but she didn’t care; he was human and he hadn’t killed her outright, which meant that Derek still had a chance. She didn’t resist as he directed her into a tangled mess of undergrowth; she was his burden now, and she found herself fervently hoping that Derek would do the only sensible thing and leave her to her fate.

~ ~ ~


	3. Chapter 3

~ ~ ~

** _Never a Good Day… 3/6_ **

~ ~ ~

               Sarah didn’t know how long it had been. Her world had shrunk down to the basic necessities of breathing and remaining on her feet. When she stumbled, he slapped or kicked her, and it was getting progressively harder for her to get back up. They didn’t seem to be moving higher, just putting distance between themselves and Derek, and she suspected that the man would then attempt to use her to draw Derek out. Same old fucking story, and she was so very tired of it.

               The man was in good shape: lean, athletic and six-foot plus, but they had all had a long night, and he finally stopped to rest, pushing her down to the ground. He kept his gun pointed at her while he searched in a bag and withdrew a length of rope, and she realized, with growing horror, that he was going to bind her. She said nothing as he unknotted the sling, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead. There was no reason to restrain her; she wasn’t going anywhere and her injuries left her unlikely to fight. Such logic didn’t seem to be troubling him, though, and if he intended it as a punishment for killing his companion, Sarah knew that it was going to be extremely effective. For a second, she was able to cradle her splinted arm, but he looped the rope around it then dragged it behind her to secure her wrists together. It didn’t hurt immediately, some protective part of her brain kicking in just to shut it all out, but the respite was fleeting. She heard herself whimpering and briefly hated herself for it, before everything faded to gray.

~ ~ ~

               “Oh fucking-, no.”

               Derek looked around their shelter in disbelief. Ten minutes. It had taken him ten minutes to dispose of the body and get back. Ten fucking minutes for everything to go to hell. The second man must have been watching them, waiting for his opportunity, and the bastard had made no attempt to save the life of his colleague, a fact that troubled Derek more than anything. He scooped up their weapons and his jacket, grateful that the man had had his hands so full with Sarah that he’d not been able to carry off anything else. The direction they had travelled in was obvious, meaning that hide and seek was probably the aim of the game. He afforded fleeting consideration to granting Sarah’s request to leave her behind, and just as quickly dismissed the idea as untenable. Sarah might be a pain in his ass a lot of the time, but John needed her, and, although he would never admit it to anyone, life was more interesting with her around.

He slung the bag over his shoulder. Coming, ready or not.

~ ~ ~

               Sarah opened her eyes slowly and found herself instantly craving unconsciousness. She was still lying on the ground, and the pain in her arm had moved beyond terrible and settled somewhere around horrendous. She felt tape across her mouth and knew then that there wasn’t going to be an interrogation, that she was bait, and her immediate future was likely to involve more pain, followed by death.

The man sat three feet away from her, slowly peeling an apple with a paring knife, cutting it into chunks, and ignoring her completely. Tears of exhaustion leaked down her cheeks but she couldn’t wipe them away, and she was about to close her eyes again when he realized that she was watching him.

               “Shouldn’t be much longer. Then I’ll give you a reason to fucking cry.”

               The tape prevented her from telling him what a futile gesture that would be. That she had never screamed, or cried, or begged, and wasn’t about to start now. She just raised an eyebrow at him, which made him choke a little on his apple. Watching him go red in the face and splutter made her feel slightly better, and she closed her eyes, desperate to rest while she had the chance.

~ ~ ~

               As a child, Derek had spent his days hiding himself and his brother from the machines. They had quickly learned how to be silent, how to tell which pile of rubble was stable enough to shelter beneath and what sounds the metal made as they approached. The ones who failed to master these basics were rounded up for the camps or died within the first few weeks. Derek and Kyle had been experts by then.

This wasn’t post-apocalyptic, machine-ridden desolation. This was a dark, slightly damp forest, and without Sarah he made excellent progress. The man had left a trail that an idiot would struggle to miss, which served to make Derek even more wary, but still he knew that he was catching them up. A flattened patch of blood-stained grass indicated that Sarah had been left on the ground for a period of time, and he refused to consider what that might imply. Instead, he preferred to be optimistic about the fact that there were no signs of a fight. And he knew that she would fight; even with her arm snapped in pieces, she would fight. Part of Derek pitied the man who had taken her - he had no idea what he had gotten himself into - but the greater part just wanted him dead.

~ ~ ~

               Sarah was doing her best, but she knew that the man was losing his patience. She wanted to ask him exactly what he expected from a woman covered in blood and suffering from serious injuries, whom he had decided to bind, gag and frog-march through rough terrain in the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately the gag precluded any of that, so she had just taken to glaring at him, a tactic that did at least seem to be making him extremely uncomfortable.

               The last time he had lashed out at her, she had retaliated and kicked him sharply on his shin. It had earned her a punch to the face, and her nose was still bleeding. Breathing was becoming an issue; with her nose clogged and her mouth covered, she was finding it difficult to draw an adequate breath. When he finally stopped, she dropped to her knees, leaning forward and trying not to panic.

               “For fuck’s sake.” He ripped the tape from her lips.

She gulped air in hungrily, unaware of anything other than filling her lungs. She stopped herself from hyperventilating and knelt quietly, waiting for the feeling of slow suffocation to subside. The man was staring at her as he drank from a bottle of water, and she licked her parched lips, trying not to wish a slow death upon him.

               “What’s your boyfriend called?”

               It was the first time that he had formed a sentence without building it around an expletive. She performed a mental double-take before she realized that he meant Derek, and had to stop herself from laughing and antagonizing him.

               “Not my boyfriend.”

               “No?”

               “No.”

               “Seemed awfully close back there.”

               “He was trying to stop me from bleeding to death.”

               “That right?”

               Too tired to start explaining the rather complex Connor family dynamics, she ignored him.

He kicked her knee, forcing her to look at him. “I said, _that right_?”

               She sighed. “Yes, that’s right.”

               “So, he won’t come running for you?”

               She shook her head. Not running, no, but he probably _would_ come shooting.

               The man must have caught something in her eyes, because he screwed the lid onto his water and hauled her back to her feet by the scruff of her neck, propelling her in front of him with enough force to make her stagger. They seemed to be following a trail, probably the one that he had come down on, and she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what it was that they were heading towards.

~ ~ ~

               Derek hadn’t been able to pick out words, but had heard the voices, and forced himself to slow down. Stumbling blindly into a confrontation and leaving Sarah in the middle of a firefight was not an option. It was the first time that he had been close enough to hear them speak, and he smiled briefly at the defiance in her tone.

               The path that they were following was more obvious now. He decided not to be so predictable as to take the prepared route, and veered off to his right into thicker cover. The height gain providing a decent enough overview of where he was supposed to be. It slowed his progress, and his ankle hated him for it, but he wanted the endgame to be played out using his rules. Gritting his teeth, he persevered, trying not to limp too loudly.

~ ~ ~

               Standing in the clearing, Sarah watched the man as he checked through a cache of weapons. They had reached a destination of sorts, the trail leading to nothing more significant than a stash of equipment he had concealed in the undergrowth.

Holding a shotgun, he walked towards her. “Get on your knees.”

               She shook her head once. “No.” It was a futile protest, but she didn’t want to kneel. Kneeling would make her too vulnerable; there was no way that she could get up quickly without the use of her hands.

               Circling her slowly, he suddenly smashed the stock of the shotgun into the small of her back. She grunted in pain as her knees crumpled from beneath her. It took her a minute to regain her balance, and in that time he had exchanged the gun for a hunting knife. His head cocked on one side, he was listening intently to the creaks and cracks of the forest, trying to distinguish the natural from the unnatural. Apparently he heard something that caught his interest, because he made his way back over to her, a thin smile twisting on his lips.

               “He’s close. Call to him.”

               The same fucking phrase, every time. Did these bastards have no imagination at all?

               “Fuck you.”

               It seemed to disconcert him, the fact that although he was waving a knife in front of her face, she was refusing to play the traditional role of victim. For a second, she wondered whether he would actually go through with making a cut, but his indecision was fleeting and he placed the tip of the knife in the hollow of her throat.

               “Last chance. Call to him.”

               She didn’t dignify him with a response, but just closed her eyes as she felt the knife bite in and draw a line along the edge of her clavicle. It hurt, but she had a lot of miserable experiences to draw upon for comparison. Getting shot hurt more. Being pinioned through the shoulder had really hurt, and having Cameron grind her heel into an open abdominal wound had also been extremely unpleasant. Right at the moment, her arm was far more painful than the shallow laceration he was making, and she remained silent, her eyes still closed, and listened for any sign that Derek was making a move.

~ ~ ~

               Crouched above the clearing, Derek had watched the man force Sarah to her knees. He hadn’t been able to hear their exchange, but he had seen the glint of moonlight on the blade, and Sarah’s eyes closing just before it cut into her chest. Raising a hand, he wiped away the sweat stinging into the scrapes on his forehead. Deep, steady breaths helped to use up the excess adrenaline flooding his body. He fought to temper the instinct to charge into the clearing, all guns blazing.

Her eyes were open now, ignoring the man as he slit the sleeve of her sweater to expose her uninjured arm. The man had his back to Derek’s position as he focused on his task, and Derek could see that Sarah was listening, scanning the area to try and pinpoint where help might be coming from. Making a quick decision, Derek shone his flashlight once, noting the subtle movement in her shoulders as she caught the signal. The man, oblivious, cut into the sensitive flesh of her upper arm and failed to realize that the balance of power had just shifted ever so slightly away from him.

~ ~ ~

               The wound he had made in her arm was deeper, blood already running down to her elbow. His breathing was faster now, his nostrils flaring as he reacted to her lack of reaction. Sarah knew that she was playing a dangerous game, but the closer the man came to losing control, the closer he came to making a mistake. With wild eyes, he stared at her blood on the knife and seemed to come to a conclusion.

               “I’ll make you fucking scream for me.”

               The knife flashed down, and for one numbing second she waited for the pain of a stab wound to announce itself, but the pain when it came was in her arm, and she realized that he had cut through the rope on her wrists. A gasp escaped her before she could stifle it, and he grinned, baring his teeth at this first indication of vulnerability. He slapped away her right arm easily as she reached to try and protect the fracture. Pulling her injured arm into an outstretched position, he began to snip away at the bandages around the splint.

               She couldn’t move. Every tiny jerk of the knife shocked agony through her and it was all that she could do to remain conscious. The splint dropped away and he gripped her forearm in both of his hands, a sickening parody of the hold Derek had used earlier to try and help her.

               “Scream for me now?”

               Shaking her head, tears streaming down her face, she looked beyond him and saw a light flash once. For a split-second, she thought that she was fainting, but some detached part of her managed to recognize it for what it was. She forced herself to straighten her back slightly, bracing herself. As the man flicked his wrists, grinding the fractured bones together, Sarah finally granted his wish and screamed. High and deafening, the pain and rage combined to cover the noise Derek made as he approached. Taking advantage of the man’s surprise, she wrenched back on the arm he was holding, and threw a punch with her free arm, catching him a glancing blow on his jaw. It was enough. Enough to knock him off balance. Enough to enable her to throw herself out of harm’s way, and enough to ensure that the single shot Derek fired caught the man in the back of his head and blasted his face away.

~ ~ ~

               Gun held in both hands, his arms outstretched, Derek stalked into the clearing, his eyes fixed on the fallen man. Common sense told him that the man was dead, but instinct forced him to blank out Sarah’s crumpled form and double-check his kill. He kicked the man’s thigh, turning the body onto its back. The overwhelming, fecal smell of sudden death confirmed the extinction of life, even before Derek saw the pulp that remained of his face and skull.

               Dropping his gun into one hand, Derek turned away from the body and hurried over to where Sarah lay. Her head moved a little as she heard him approach, and the fear that had been clawing at him since he had seen her drop relented slightly.

               “Sarah?”

               “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She sounded anything but. “I just… is he dead?”

               “Yes. Can you get up?”

               “No.”

               “No?”

               “…I need a minute.”

               She was lying on her side, knees pulled up to her chest in a fetal position, sweat and tears and blood soaking her face. Without a word, he sat down beside her, stretched out his legs and cushioned her head on his thigh. He ran his hand through her hair and worried briefly when she didn’t attempt to snap it off at the wrist, but the small smile on her lips suggested she had considered doing just that, and he felt a little more of the tension ebb away.

               “Impressive moves there, Connor.”

               “Mmm. You liked that, huh?”

               “Remind me never to piss you off.”

               “You piss me off all the time.”

               He laughed. “Gonna have to fix your arm again, aren’t I?”

               A faint grimace. “Which will piss me off.”

               “I’ll take the chance. I can run faster than you at the moment.”

               She smiled then, and closed her eyes. “Can you give me a minute?”

               “How about I give you a couple?”

               “Sounds nice.”

               For now, at least, they had earned this short reprieve. They still faced a long trek back up to the road, but he could only worry about one thing at a time, and, for now, that one thing was resting against his thigh, and he didn’t have the heart to disturb her.

~ ~ ~

               “Almost done here. You still with me?”

               “Yeah.” Her voice was slightly stronger this time.

Derek taped down the last portion of bandage covering the laceration on her arm. She had vomited twice while he reset the fracture and her face remained a pasty white, but she was sitting up unassisted now, and had managed to keep down a quarter-bottle of a nasty-colored isotonic drink that he had found stashed with the man’s supplies. He rested his fingers on her wrist. It took him thirty seconds to find her pulse, it was so weak, but it _was_ there, which meant that she had a chance of standing up and staying up.

               “Shall we?”

               He held a hand out to her and she took hold of it, her palm cold and clammy as he pulled her to her feet. Keeping his arm around her waist as she leaned heavily against him, he hefted the duffle-bag onto his shoulder and managed to balance the twin weights.

               “Okay?”

               He felt her nod and knew that it was only sheer stubbornness that was keeping her upright.

               “We take it slow, and stop when we need to.”

               Another nod, but she took one step, then another, and they found an awkward rhythm together. Neither one of them gave the dense patch of undergrowth where Derek had dragged the body a second glance as they left the clearing.

~ ~ ~

               “Any better?” Derek continued to adjust the sling until Sarah nodded, then he re-knotted it securely. He watched as she gingerly allowed it to take over the support of her arm and let out a sigh of relief at the new-found comfort.

               “Much. Thanks.”

               “Here.” He dropped two Tylenol onto her palm. “Hold off on the codeine for now, I think it’ll knock you out.”

               “Think you might be right.” She had almost stumbled straight into a small pond just before he had called a halt and ordered their current rest-break. “You a medic in the future, Derek?”

               He shook his head. “No. We all get basic battlefield med training, but it’s pretty much limited to managing hemorrhage and shock, administering pain relief and knowing when to GLF.”

               “GLF?”

               “Go. Like. Fuck. Slap a clotting pack on, morphine, and move.”

               “Makes sense.”

               “I had a bit of an interest, hung out with the medics sometimes. They showed me how to start IVs, insert chest tubes. One of them gave me a couple of old textbooks to read.” He shrugged. “Maybe in another life…”

               She smiled, understanding all too keenly the concept of _maybe in another life_. “Y’know, I put my first field dressing on Kyle.”

               He stared at her, his stomach lurching automatically at the mention of his brother’s name. She barely ever spoke about Kyle and he had never tried to press her for any details, knowing the pain that dredging up the past inevitably brought with it. Somehow, getting injured seemed to make Sarah vulnerable to the point where she was willing to go one step further and lay herself open emotionally. He suspected it was because – if necessary – she could always blame the drugs, the pain, the blood loss, or some combination of the three.

               “He got shot. Well, he told me it was a flesh wound, but I nearly puked on him anyway.” She shook her head, horrified by her damsel-in-distress incompetence. “We were hiding in a storm drain and I bandaged his arm. I remember it was so fucking cold, and he put his arm around me and told me about John and the future. Your future. I fell asleep and I dreamed of dogs and screaming and fire.” That was the first nightmare. The images had altered slightly over the years, but the terror that they evoked remained the one constant.

               “How did he die?” Derek couldn’t look at her, could barely push the words past the dryness of his throat, but he had been desperate to know for months and he sensed that this was an all or nothing conversation.

She remained silent for a long time, her eyes closed and her fingers pale against the bottle of juice she held. When she answered, her voice was quiet, but unfaltering.

“Instantly.”

She studied him, gauging his reaction, trying to establish what level of detail he needed. Apparently, he needed to hear as much as she was willing to give. “They’d sent back a T-101. We blew it up in the street, but Kyle had been shot in the chest, and the blast...” She hesitated as the words choked her, wishing that the details had faded after seventeen years, but she could still remember how acrid the smoke had felt against her throat, and how hoarse Kyle’s voice had been as he called her name. Licking her chapped lips, she persevered; she owed Derek the truth. “I thought it was over but the fucking thing came at us again. We ended up in a factory full of automated machines.” She let out a harsh gasp of laughter. “Yeah, the irony wasn’t lost on me either. Kyle couldn’t run. He forced me ahead, and tried to fight it with a metal bar. He gave me enough time to get a safe distance, took a pipe bomb, lit the fuse and pushed it into the endo. The explosion killed him.”

               “It killed him?”

               “Yes.”

               “Didn’t kill _it_?”

               She looked away. John had told Derek that Kyle had died saving her life. It had been true. Kyle had saved her life over and over again in those terrible few hours, but ultimately she had also had to save herself.

               “You killed it, didn’t you?” The whole truth and nothing but the truth.

               “Yes. My leg was broken. A piece of shrapnel, here.” She touched the point on her left thigh where her femur had been snapped. “The machine was blown in half. I crawled, it crawled. I went through some kind of press, it followed but I managed to trap it, and I activated the press while it grabbed for my throat.” A quick shudder that had nothing to do with the chill that dawn was bringing. “I only found out where they’d buried Kyle later, after I got out of the hospital.” Her hand rested unconsciously on her abdomen and slow tears ran down her face. “So much happened, so quickly, it was almost impossible for me to do anything but stay on my feet and survive. But I did love him.” She looked straight at Derek, seeing the similarities that had made his presence hurt so much at first. His smile was barely perceptible, just a tiny change to his face, but there was peace there, and relief, and she leaned into the arm that he wrapped around her shoulders.

               “I miss him.” Her voice was muffled by his jacket. “I barely knew him and I still miss him.”

               He didn’t answer. His own sense of loss didn’t need voicing. He just tightened his arm around her in silent gratitude, as the sun began to dapple the tree canopy with light.

~ ~ ~

               “Not too much further now.”

               Sarah didn’t reply. She didn’t even have the strength to call him on his blatant lie. She was walking independently, keeping her head down, her shoulders heaving as she panted for air. They seemed to have been traveling uphill for hours, the sun rising steadily and beginning to prickle their faces with heat. She couldn’t stop again; if they stopped again, she didn’t think she’d be getting back up. So she continued to walk, feeling the burn in her legs as the gradient became steeper, and the occasional hand that Derek placed on her back to guide her in an easier direction.

               The longer they took, the greater the chance that they would be greeted by Kaliba reinforcements up on the road, and the greater the likelihood that John and Cameron would decide to head out themselves to try and track them down. She checked her watch: 6.22am. Keep moving, a mantra in her head prompted every step. Keep moving.

~ ~ ~

               “No. No hospital.”

               “Sarah, don’t be fucking stupid.”

               She was shaking her head vehemently, propping herself up against a tree and refusing point-blank to follow his advice and sit down.

               “Too many questions. Too complicated.”

               “We crashed our car down a ravine, and it took time for us to get back up to the road. Hell, Sarah, that’s pretty much what _did_ actually happen.”

               “No. The police will get involved. You can fix me up... Done it before.”

               “I can’t. Not this time, not your arm. It needs pinning or it’ll mend badly, you know that. We’re just going to have to take the chance. Our IDs are good, nothing will get red-flagged and I’ll bust you out of there as soon as they’re done with you.”

               “Oh well, that’s easy then.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What could possibly go wrong?”

               “Knowing our luck, absolutely everything. But you know that I’m right.”

               She did, which was only making her more pissed off. “I fucking hate anesthetics.”

               He laughed, surprised by her sudden capitulation, and she gave him a look that might have scared him had she not been swaying on the spot.

               “I don’t know why you’re laughing. They make me sick as a dog and you’re gonna be the one driving me home.”

               Shrugging, he decided to be optimistic. “At least it won’t be all over _my_ truck this time.” He looked at her, the sunlight serving to emphasize how deathly pale she was. “You good to go?”

               “Yes.” There was no hesitation.

He gave her a _go ahead_ gesture and followed behind her. He knew that she was unlikely to make it to the road under her own steam; he was amazed that she had made it this far. So he stayed close. Not so close that she would pick up on his concern, but close enough to catch her when she finally fell.

~ ~ ~

               The road was in sight when it happened. Sarah barely made a sound, just stopped, turned to face Derek, and shook her head once in a mute apology as her legs buckled. Despite his readiness, despite his expectations, he was still taken by surprise, lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that she had kept going for so long. Dropping his bag and lurching towards her, he caught her as she pitched forward and supported her weight to the ground. She was still conscious, telling him she was “sorry” as she shivered uncontrollably and tried not to let her eyes close. Laying her back on the ground, he draped his jacket over her and fumbled for her wrist. There was no pulse there, and the various degrees of staining on her dressings told him that she was continuing to bleed from all of the wounds he had bandaged. Time, and their limited options, were running out.

               Without the luxury of being able to second-guess himself, he quickly sorted through his bag, discarding most of its contents and taking only the canteen and a spare clip of ammunition. As an after-thought, he stuffed fresh bandages and the painkillers into his pockets. He left everything else in the bag, which he crammed beneath a shattered tree stump; he wasn’t certain that he would ever return for it, but he didn’t want to leave it for anyone else to find.

               He turned back to Sarah, who was still struggling to keep her eyes open, cold sweat beading on her forehead, her face a sickly, corpse-like yellow.

               “I have to get you up.” He expected an argument but instead she nodded once, tears of frustration prickling her eyes as she tried to move and nothing cooperated.

“Easy, easy. Let me.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to a sitting position. She moaned, her eyes rolling back, and he knew then that as soon as he stood her up she would faint. She was gripping weakly onto his shirt and he could see that she was scared, scared of everything being so out of her control, and terrified that she would lose consciousness and not be able to claw her way back out.

               “Sarah?”

               “What?” Little more than a gasp, but she managed to focus on him.

               “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? But I need you to try not to fight me.”

               His words took a minute to sink in, for her to work out what he meant, what he was asking of her, and she didn’t like it. It was in her nature to fight, and she knew that she couldn’t make him any promises. But in the end, when he finally pulled her to her feet she couldn’t summon the energy to resist, and, for once, let herself sink peacefully into the darkness.

~ ~ ~


	4. Chapter 4

**~ ~ ~**

**_Never a Good Day… _4/6__**

~ ~ ~

               “It’s a good job your cooking’s so fucking terrible.” Sarah was a dead weight in Derek’s arms, but at least she was a relatively light one. “You might be heavier if even half of what you made was edible.”

               If he was looking to provoke a reaction, he was failing miserably. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her hand remained slack where it rested in her lap, and the only sign that she was still alive were the little puffs of breath, warm and quick on his neck.

               “We’re nearly there.” His legs were screaming in pain, his ankle a swollen lump of misery, but the road was so close he could see the pieces of debris that they had left on the asphalt. “We’re nearly there.”

~ ~ ~

               For a whole minute, he couldn’t fathom what was wrong. He stood on the road, Sarah still cradled in his arms, and couldn’t work out what he was supposed to do next and exactly why that wasn’t possible.

               “Shit.”

               There was no truck.

               “Shit.”

               His arms trembled suddenly, his legs threatening to give way from beneath him. He lowered Sarah carefully to the ground, turning her onto her side, then standing and drawing his gun in one smooth motion. He pivoted around in a wide circle, taking in the details  - the curve of the bend, the gap through which they had been forced, the litter of metal on the road. They were in the right place, and the truck was gone.

               “Shit.”

               If the police had found it, full of bullet-holes and deserted, they would still have been there processing the scene, but the road was empty. Which only really left Kaliba, who were apparently very keen to clean up after themselves, and didn’t seem to have any qualms about abandoning two of their own as missing, presumed dead. Logically, the truck had been conspicuous, would surely have been found by someone eventually, and was potentially traceable. The lesser of two evils would have been to retrieve the evidence; then, if their operatives were alive after all, they only had a long walk home to worry about.

               Momentarily thrown, Derek kept his gun in his hand but returned to Sarah and sat beside her; she hadn’t stirred. He pulled his cell phone out, knowing already what the display would read but still hissing a curse at the _No Signal_ message. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling so unsure of himself; he was used to following orders but was also more than capable of improvising when the mission required it. Now his mission had hit an unexpected dead-end and he hadn’t planned for any variation on his scenario of hotwiring the truck and GLF to the nearest hospital. The drive into the closest town was over an hour. He could probably walk it, but there was no way Sarah would be hiking alongside him, and there was no way he was leaving her unconscious at the roadside. He had already dealt with the mess left behind the last time Kaliba had gotten its hands on her, and a repeat of that just wasn’t an option. That also ruled out his walking to an area where his cell might work. Flagging a vehicle down was their only realistic chance. He had a gun or a sob story to work with and he wasn’t at all fussy which he utilized. The hard way or the easy way, the next person traveling that stretch of road was going to be picking up a couple of passengers.

~ ~ ~

               In the end it was easier than Derek had expected, but then, he figured, they were owed a little good fortune. The teenaged couple pulled in immediately when they saw him waving, and Tony – all rippling muscle, suntan and lingering scent of the previous night’s pot over-indulgence – helped him to lift Sarah and lay her on the back seat of their pick-up.

               “I know first aid! I did a course at work!” Tony’s girlfriend, Amy-Lou, was busy leaning over from the front seat and trying to feel Sarah’s wrist for her pulse. “Oh shit! She’s not got a pulse, holy fuck! Is she dead? I know CPR!”

               Derek shook his head, climbing into the back and easing Sarah’s head onto his knees. “She’s not dead. Here…” He took the girl’s hand and placed it over Sarah’s carotid pulse, slightly disconcerted that a trained first-aider would consider performing CPR on someone who was quite obviously still breathing, “…but she’s lost a lot of blood and she really needs a hospital.”

               “Oh wow. Oh thank you Jesus. It’s okay, Tony. She’s got a pulse. There’s lots of blood though. Oh, I might puke.”

               Tony gave Derek a look implying that perhaps he wasn’t interested in Amy-Lou for her intelligence, and started the engine.

               “Hospital’s about an hour away. If you reach into the back, there’s a blanket and a cool box, got some food in it.”

               “Thanks.” Derek pulled the blanket through and wrapped it around Sarah, before flipping the lid from the cool box and taking out a sandwich. It was limp, slightly squashed and a little warm, but he was suddenly ravenous and devoured a huge chunk in one bite.

               “So, what the hell happened to you two?” Tony looked nonchalantly at him via the rearview mirror whilst driving at a speed that wasn’t entirely legal.

               Swallowing his mouthful, Derek resisted the urge to cram in the rest of the sandwich and decided that now was as good a time as any to rehearse his cover story.

~ ~ ~

               She became aware gradually. Aware of a steady background hum of voices, only one of which was familiar. Aware that she was moving forward but that the angle was all wrong. She opened her eyes a crack, impulsively attempting to sit up in an effort to dispel some of the disorientation. Firm but careful hands stopped her from moving, and she made a small, distressed noise at the feeling of being restrained. The hands immediately left her.

               “Sarah, it’s okay. Lie still, you’re okay.”

               Derek. Her eyes focused slowly, taking in her position and her surroundings. Something wasn’t quite right; she realized that he was beside her, which meant that someone else was driving.

               “What happened?” Her voice sounded desperately weak and she wondered how long she had been unconscious for. The look of relief on his face suggested that it had been quite some time.

               “You collapsed about half a mile from the road. I carried you the rest of the way and flagged Tony and Amy-Lou down.” He shook his head to warn her against asking too many questions and she nodded her understanding.

               “I thought you were dead!” Amy-Lou was staring at Sarah intently. “I ain’t never seen so much blood, ‘cept in the movies. He makes me watch a real load of nasty crap, we argue about it all the time.”

               The girl continued to babble on and Sarah closed her eyes, letting the noise fade into the background.

               “We’re almost at the hospital.” Derek’s voice was perfectly pitched to undercut Amy-Lou’s movie monologue. “I’ll call John as soon as we get there, okay?” His hand was warm and heavy on her shoulder and he seemed to have everything under control. Reassured, she nodded her assent and allowed herself to drift off again.

~ ~ ~

               Doctor Anna Matthews placed the last butterfly stitch on the boy’s forehead and gave him a certificate lauding his bravery. The boy’s mother fussed, reading and rereading the advice leaflet she had been given, then handed her son a bar of candy that was almost as big as his head.

               “Any vomiting, dizziness or drowsiness, give us a call or bring him back in.” Anna watched the boy tear into the chocolate and wondered how long it would take him to eat the whole thing and how long after that the vomiting would start. She resigned herself to dealing with a phone call from a concerned but stupid parent sometime later that day.

               Dropping the used dressings into a clinical waste bin, she was contemplating an empty waiting room and an overdue cup of coffee when all hell seemed to break loose at the front desk.

               “I need help! Are you a doctor?” A man’s voice, raised and animated, aimed at the receptionist.

               Anna pulled back the cubicle curtain and walked over to the desk, putting her hand out to try to stall the man’s rush of demands.

               “I’m a doctor, sir. What’s happened?”

               “A woman. She got hurt in a car wreck. Me and Amy-Lou picked her up. She’s not awake.”

               “She’s in the parking lot?” A sudden surge of adrenaline was making it difficult for her to think, protocols and procedures amassing for her to try and put into order.

               “Just out the front, yeah.”

               “Okay.” Two nurses had also appeared, drawn by the commotion. Anna took a deep, calming breath. “We need a gurney, long board, hard collar and blocks. Anyone in the trauma room?”

               “No.”

               “Tom around?”

               The younger of the two nurses nodded, her eyes wide with excitement. “Staffroom. There’s an ambulance in the bay.”

               “Excellent. Go grab the paramedics, we can use their kit.” Anna turned to the young man. “Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~

               The man in the back seat looked as if he had only just stopped himself from drawing a weapon on her, and Anna raised both of her hands, regretting opening the truck’s door quite so abruptly.

               “Sorry, sir. I’m a doctor.”

               He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking to her ID badge, his body still shielding the truck’s other occupant, before he finally nodded and relaxed his posture slightly. As he leaned back against the seat, she was able to see the woman he had been protecting, and she swore softly under her breath, reaching automatically for the pulse at the woman’s throat.

               “How long?” The woman’s pulse was fast and thready and her injuries were not recent.

               “What time is it now?”

               “Ten-thirty.”

               He ran a hand across his face, trying to gauge how much time had passed. “About twelve hours.”

               “Are you hurt?”

               “No, I’m fine.”

               She knew that he was lying, but he wasn’t a priority right now. “Can you move out of there?”

               The paramedics were wheeling over a gurney laden with equipment. The man nodded, climbing carefully out from the back seat, his eyes never leaving the woman.

               “When did she lose consciousness?”

               “Couple of hours back. We crashed down an embankment and had to walk up to the road. I couldn’t stop her bleeding, but she was awake for a short time about twenty minutes ago.”

               “Good. That’s good.” Anna took the cervical collar from the paramedic and slid it into place around the woman’s neck. “This is just a precaution, sir. If she was able to walk that’s a good sign. What’s her name?”

               He didn’t hesitate, but his tone was guarded as if he was taking a leap of faith. “Sarah.”

               “Okay. We’re just going to slide you up this board, Sarah, and we’ll have you in the hospital in no time.”

               The man stood back, allowing them to extricate her. They secured her onto the board with straps and head blocks before lifting the whole ensemble onto the gurney. He nodded once in thanks to the young couple watching beside their truck, then followed the team into the hospital.

~ ~ ~

               “Sir, you can’t go in there.”

               One of the nurses put her hand out, blocking Derek’s path, the doors to the trauma room swinging shut and obscuring Sarah from view. He glared at the woman, contemplating forcing his way in regardless, and then realized that he needed to play by the rules and keep as low a profile as possible. The nurse seemed to take pity on him and placed a hand on his arm, steering him over to the front desk.

               “These are the forms you need to fill out, then take a seat and someone will come and check you over.”

               He nodded, taking the paperwork and sitting where she had indicated. When she left him alone, he folded the sheets into his pocket, dug out his cell phone and walked outside. He almost hoped that the metal would answer the call; somehow that would be preferable to telling John that his mother was in the hospital again. Resigning himself to a shitty conversation either way, he found a quiet corner of the ambulance bay, took a breath and dialed the number.

~ ~ ~

               “Ready? On three…”

               The board was settled onto the bed with only the slightest of jolts, but it was enough to wake Sarah. Her eyes flew open, her body reacting immediately to the sensation of being tied down and surrounded by strangers. Anna saw her hand tense into a fist at her side, and moved into her line of vision, reaching for her hand and smoothing her fingers out.

               “Sarah, easy. You’re in the hospital. I’m Anna, one of the doctors, and we’re going to take care of you, okay?”

               Sarah blinked, not reassured, her breathing rapid and scared. “Can’t move… Derek…?”

               Anna made an educated guess, assuming that Derek was her companion. “Derek’s just outside. We had to put you on a special board to protect your spine. I know it’s uncomfortable but it won’t be for long.”

               “68 over 40, tachy at 138, sats 98%, BM 4.2.” A disconnected voice reeled off vital signs and Anna nodded in acknowledgement, trying not to let her _oh fuck_ reaction show on her face as Sarah gripped her hand fiercely.

               “Sarah?”

               “What?” It came out as a gasp, her eyes wide as the team worked methodically to cut her clothes off. Anna had to bite back on the urge to tell everyone to take a step back while she explained exactly what was going on. She didn’t call a halt, but she did attempt the explanation.

               “We need to get you undressed so we know what we’re dealing with. Get some fluids into you and get your blood pressure back up. I know it’s not pleasant, but just try and bear with us.”

               Sarah managed a small nod, shivering as the cool air hit her exposed skin. Her reserves had been spent instantly and her eyes were already closing.

               Anna pulled a blanket over her, then reached above her head to connect an oxygen mask, placing it over Sarah’s nose and mouth.

               “She’s really shut down, doc.” One of the nurses was scanning a critical eye over Sarah’s right arm, trying to find a vein.

               “Here, let me.” Taking the IV tray, she swabbed Sarah’s inner elbow. “Sharp scratch here.” There was no reaction as she pushed the needle in deeply, trying different angles with mounting desperation until she finally saw a flash of blood in the hub and gingerly threaded the cannula into place. “That should’ve hurt. Her GCS has dropped.” She drew off blood samples quickly. “Type and cross for eight units, hang a liter of Haemaccel and fast bleep anesthetics just in case she loses her airway.” With Sarah’s left arm out of commission, she moved down to Sarah’s foot and surprised herself by inserting a second IV line at the first attempt. “Run a liter of warm saline through this, then we can switch it out when the blood arrives.”

               “Fractured mid-shaft left radius and ulna. Got a decent distal pulse and her cap refill’s pretty good.” Tom – the only other doctor on shift – sounded, calm and detached, catching Anna up as he cut away the bandage on Sarah’s forehead. “And, woah! Stick a finger on that, please, we have a bleeder!”

               Anna continued to conduct a secondary survey, but laughed softly at the look of horror on the face of the young nurse who had rushed to place a gauze pad on the laceration. “You knew that was under there, you shit.”

               He grinned at her. “Yeah, I had a clue. Her clothes are soaked. Probably four or five units’ worth. So much blood for such a little artery.”

               “Large contusion, lower right costal margin. Good bilateral breath sounds. Abdo’s soft, bowel sounds are okay, and her other long bones are intact. I can’t see anything else major.” She was starting to relax, just a little. “The amount of time she’s had that bleed would account for the level of shock. We get it sutured, get her pressure stabilized and I think we could be okay.”

               “X-rays?”

               “Head, chest, spinal. Hell, bit of everything. Log roll, get rid of the board and find out which ward stole our Bair Hugger; she needs warming up. Then let Ortho play with her arm.”

               “Nasty mess, that arm. Would’ve been worse if he’d not pulled it though.”

               Anna winced as she peeled a bandage from Sarah’s right bicep, her stomach not appreciating the thought of a double fracture corrected without a hefty dose of pain relief. The wince turned into a frown as the injury beneath the dressing was revealed; the deep incision was still bleeding sluggishly and was entirely inconsistent with a motor vehicle accident. It wasn’t the only injury that she couldn’t explain. There were contusions to Sarah’s shins and ankles, a second incision across the length of her left clavicle and what looked suspiciously like a ligature mark around her right wrist. Tom was occupied stitching Sarah’s forehead, pursing his lips at the persistence of the arterial bleed, and Anna didn’t disturb him. She didn’t tell him about the scars she had found: bullet wounds – the latest still raw and only partially healed – a stab wound, and a larger, messier scar to the left thigh where something jagged had penetrated deeply. Sarah’s face, even while unconscious, was still creased with pain and tension, and Anna wondered what the hell had happened to her, this time and the numerous times before. Several of the old scars had healed badly, indicating a lack of proper medical attention, and she suspected that it was only desperation that had brought them to the hospital on this occasion. Something had happened beyond a simple car accident, which should have made Derek a prime suspect, but she knew in her gut that that wasn’t the case. She had seen a lot of domestic abuse victims pass through the Emergency Room, and at no point had the abuser ever shared the same haunted look as the abused.

               Suturing the wound quickly, she smoothed a dressing into place, feeling a twinge of guilt at the deception. She wanted to speak to Sarah before anyone did anything rash like contacting the police. The woman needed a chance to heal, and Anna strongly suspected that she would bolt for an exit as soon as she had the strength. Avoiding giving her any motivation to flee early seemed like a sensible place to start.

~ ~ ~

               “Her blood pressure is coming up gradually; we were able to stop the hemorrhage from her head injury relatively easily. She has the obvious fracture to her arm and three fractured ribs. Various cuts and bruises, but those are all minor.”

               Anna held the door to the trauma room open and waited until Derek hobbled through. He had spent twelve hours walking on a grade two ankle sprain and it had subsequently swollen to the size of a small melon. Evidently, mobilizing on crutches was not something at which he was particularly gifted.

               “She was awake briefly, but we’ve given her morphine which has made her more comfortable and knocked her out again. You... um, you did a good job with her arm. As soon as she’s stabilized she’ll go for surgery to have the fractures pinned.”

               He nodded, and sank gratefully into the chair that she had pulled up at Sarah’s bedside. “Thanks.”

               Sarah was smothered in blankets, one of them a blow-up contraption that was warm when he placed his hand on it. Blood and fluid dripped steadily, restoring the tiniest fraction of color to her cheeks. Someone had taken the time to wipe the blood and dirt and sweat from her face and she seemed to be resting peacefully for the first time in hours.

               “88 over 50.” Anna made a note on her chart. “That’s better than it was.”

               He nodded; better but not brilliant, and he thought of John pacing the house, waiting for the call telling him that it was time to come and collect them. The news of their forced detour had not gone down well, and in the end he had given the machine the responsibility of ensuring that John remained at home until they were next contacted.

               “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Painkillers?”

               “No, I’m fine.”

               “Give her a couple more hours, and we can probably get her ready for surgery.”

               He resisted the urge to check his watch. Normal people did not want their unstable loved ones rushed into surgery before they were ready. Normal people would hold their loved one’s hand and be grateful for the efforts of the medical staff. He reached under the blankets, wrapped his fingers around Sarah’s and smiled at the doctor. Normal people smiled with their eyes, and he did his best, but there were some things that just couldn’t be faked. If the doctor noticed, she didn’t comment, turning away instead to write notes on a chart. Derek leaned back in his chair and watched the blood fall, drop by drop.

~ ~ ~


	5. Chapter 5

**~ ~ ~**

**_Never a Good Day… _5/6__**

~ ~ ~

 

               Sarah hadn’t been exaggerating; anesthetics really did make her incredibly sick. Derek sat by her bedside, feeling slightly useless, as a nurse held her on her side and wiped her face clean, and Anna injected a clear drug into her IV port.

               “This should help, Sarah. Just give it a few minutes to kick in.”

               She had been out of recovery for little over an hour. Her arm, successfully pinned, was now immobilized in a sling. The orthopedic surgeon had been satisfied that there would be no permanent disability, nor any complications to hinder a full recovery. As soon as he had left her alone with Derek, she had attempted to sit up and make a break for it, until she realized that she couldn’t reach the IV in her foot, and Derek had refused to help her on the basis that her plan was blatantly stupid. A few choice words had been exchanged, but he knew that it was the drugs talking, and had let her vent her frustration and then get tearful, and he knew that that was down to the drugs as well. She had fallen back to sleep and woken up vomiting, which had made the medics fuss around her and thwarted any further schemes she might have been hatching for a quick getaway. For now, the anti-emetic seemed to have finally settled her, but she barely had the strength to keep her head up, let alone sneak out of a hospital and endure an eight hour journey home.

Anna slipped an oxygen mask back onto her as she slept. “She’ll probably be out for a few hours now. Any problems and one of the nurses will page me. You should get some sleep too.”

               Derek nodded but knew that he would do nothing of the sort. Not while they were alone here, not while Sarah was tethered to a bed and wouldn’t have been able to aim straight if she had actually been capable of holding a weapon. The doctor naturally assumed that he was in agreement and switched out the main light as she left.

In her sleep, Sarah muttered, sensing something had changed, and he laid a hand on her arm, stilling her restless movement. There was a gun under her pillow and a second one tucked just below the bed’s mattress, both within easy reach of the chair that faced the door at a strategic angle.

He knew that they weren’t safe, but he was loath to involve the machine for anything other than a ride home because that meant involving John, and Sarah had been adamant that he was to avoid that at all cost. To the untrained eye, he was maintaining a vigil, which suited him just fine; he was close enough to reassure her or close enough to draw a weapon. It was the perfect cover. He finished the cup of coffee that the nurse with the shy smile had brought him, keeping one eye on Sarah and one on the door.

~ ~ ~

               Waking up was easier this time around. The room didn’t spin when she opened her eyes and her stomach no longer felt as if it were on a mission to turn itself inside out. They had given her morphine; she recognized the cotton-soft blurring to the pain’s edge, there – in her arm, her ribs and lots of places in between – but bearable. She lifted her right arm, ignoring a slight tug from the IV in the crook of her elbow, and pulled the oxygen mask down around her neck. The movement alerted Derek and he broke the rules by perching on her bed.

               “You look like shit.” Her voice was hoarse, no moisture in her mouth.

               He smiled. “Yeah, well, some of us haven’t had the chance to sleep yet.”

               “What time is it?”

               “Quarter to six, in the evening. Here, they said to hold off on a drink for now.”

               She accepted the ice chips gratefully, running the rapidly melting slivers over her tongue. He laughed at her look of utter pleasure and gave her a second spoonful.

               “Are they coming?”

               He sighed. She was nothing if not consistent. “They set off about an hour ago. Figured it might be easier to smuggle you out during the night shift. They should be here just after midnight. And, before you ask, John is under strict instructions to stay in the truck.”

               Her face relaxed visibly and she sank back into the pillows, closing her eyes. “So, you got crutches, huh?” It was difficult to keep the amusement from her voice, and she really didn’t try very hard.

               “Yes, carrying you up that hill really fucked my ankle up.”

               She arched an eyebrow at him, then met his eyes, her expression suddenly serious. “Thanks, Derek. I think I owe you… again.”

               “Good thing I’m not running a tab.”

               A quiet laugh. “So, how am I doing?”

               “How do you feel?”

               “Better than I did. The morphine’s quite nice.”

               “I bet. I got Advil and an Ace bandage.”

               “And crutches.” She was mumbling, the drugs pulling her back under.

               “Your pressure’s better, you’ve had three units of blood so far, and your arm is all fixed. So go to sleep.”

               “Mmm.”

               He tucked her arm under the blanket, put her oxygen back on and checked his watch: 17.54. Opening up the information file that had been helpfully left in the bedside cabinet, he found a map of the hospital grounds, took out a pen and began to plan their escape route.

~ ~ ~

               With a file clasped in her hand, Anna knocked lightly on Sarah’s door and pushed it open without giving herself the opportunity for second thoughts. Sarah was awake, deep in conversation with Derek, and they both looked up like guilty schoolchildren when she walked in.

               “Hi Sarah. Do you remember me?”

               “Yes.” Sarah hesitated, trying to pull her name from beneath a fog of medication. “Anna, right?”

               “That’s right.” Anna decided not to waste time with a preamble. “Could I speak to you alone for a few minutes?”

               Sarah and Derek exchanged a look, but Sarah finally nodded, her expression wary.

               “I’ll be just outside.” Derek stood, patted the front of his jacket subconsciously, and reached for his crutches. It took him a minute to cross the room before he pulled the door shut behind him.

               Anna waited uncomfortably, the challenge in Sarah’s eyes making her incredibly nervous. “Mind if I sit down?”

               “No. Is something wrong?”

               “I don’t know. That was actually what I wanted to ask you.”

               Sarah didn’t answer, either refusing to make it easy for her, or just not wanting to speak out of turn and give anything away, so Anna persevered. “When I examined you, in the trauma room… The injuries I found… A number of them can’t be explained by an MVA and I just… I wouldn’t be doing my job as your doctor if I didn’t ask what really happened to you out there.” She looked at Sarah, who was a little paler but not showing any other outward signs of stress. “Look, I only want to help. Sarah, some of what I found, ligature marks, bruising on your legs, your back… Do I need to run a rape kit?”

               Sarah’s hand twitched once against the sheets, but she kept any show of emotion from her face. “I wasn’t raped.”

Her tone was absolutely certain, and Anna realized she had been holding her breath waiting for her to answer. “Can you tell me what did happen, then?”

               “No. Not really.”

                Anna had come too far to be deterred. “Sarah, I saw the scars. If someone’s hurting you, or you’re involved in something that you want to try and get out of, I may be able to help. But you have to be honest with me; you can trust me.”

               “I think I probably can trust you…” Sarah sounded the words out carefully as if it was an unfamiliar concept “… but you can’t help us, and getting you involved will only put you in danger.”

               It wasn’t the answer that Anna had expected and her hands suddenly felt clammy, her stomach knotting, because she knew somehow, that Sarah wasn’t lying or being needlessly dramatic.

               “Derek didn’t hurt you, did he?” More of a statement than a question.

               “No.”

               “Someone hurt you both.”

               “Yes.”

               “Do you want me to contact the police?” She already knew the answer but considered it her responsibility to offer that option.

               “No. No police.” Sarah’s heart rate hit one hundred on the monitor and an alarm began to sound. Anna hit the mute button quickly.

               “Sorry.” Anna smiled awkwardly, but Sarah surprised her by shaking her head and laughing softly.

               “Worse than a fucking lie detector.”

               “I should let you get some rest.” She was never going to know the truth, she had quickly resigned herself to that fact, and she couldn’t go to the police without Sarah’s consent, but she would never have forgiven herself if she hadn’t at least asked, and Sarah seemed to appreciate her making the effort.

               “Thank you… for everything.” For asking and offering, but knowing not to push.

               Anna nodded and stood up, then remembered the file still gripped in her hand and pulled an x-ray from it. Somewhere, in all the chaos, the original radiographer’s report had been mislaid. When she had found it, tucked away in her notes, she had read then reread the text, squinting at the film and wondering how the hell anyone had noticed it. It probably wasn’t all that important, but she had decided that she would mention it to Sarah just in case it ended up causing her any problems at a later date.

               “Oh, I meant to show you this.” She held the x-ray up to the light and pointed to the tiny mark. “It’s probably nothing. This is your chest x-ray, and there’s the strangest thing, looks like a tiny piece of metal somehow ended up in your breast.”

               For a second there was just silence, then the alarm sounded again, shrill and piercing. Sarah’s face had lost what little color it had had, and Anna took a step closer, afraid that she was going to faint. Instead, Sarah reached for the x-ray, her hand trembling slightly, and the single word she managed to utter was laced with hatred.

               “Metal?”

~ ~ ~

               “Sir, could you possibly try and talk some sense into her?”

               The doctor sounded incredibly flustered. Derek gave her a puzzled look, hurrying beyond her, back into Sarah’s room.

               “What the hell? Sarah?”

               She was half out of the bed, snarling at the tangle of leads and tubes from which – one-handed – she couldn’t get free.

               “We have to go. Now.”

               “Why? Sarah, stop.” One hand on her shoulder, he used his other to lift her chin up, making her pause and look at him. “What’s going on?”

               When she finally answered, she whispered so quietly that he could barely hear her, “I think they’re tracking me.”

               He stared at her, stunned, hoping that she was wrong, even as he began slowly to string the pieces together. That would explain how the men were able to intercept them so accurately on the road. How one of them had managed to make his own path down to the river, effortlessly end up in the right place and take her hostage. It meant that they would know she had moved away from the road, and that in all likelihood she wasn’t dead. Which had the potential to make things extremely complicated, and left him with only one question.

 “How?” He followed her gaze to where it rested on the x-ray. He picked the film up. “Where is it?”

               “My right breast.” Shame, humiliation and anger fought for dominance in her voice. 

               “Winston.”

               She could only bring herself to nod in confirmation; she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted it out of her.

               “Can you remove it?” Derek was apparently thinking along the same lines, aiming his question at the doctor, who had followed him in, and not Sarah, who looked like she would pull it out with her bare hands if given the chance.

               “No!” Having overheard their conversation, Anna was exasperated, having clearly decided that they were both as crazy as each other. “Look, it’s probably just from the crash. I wish I’d never said anything now. I don’t know what you think the problem is.”

               There was no time for subterfuge, and Sarah opted for the _CliffsNotes_ version of events. “Two men ran us off the road and forced us to crash, then they hunted us and caused all the injuries that you can’t explain. Another man _like them_ put this in me, and it is very likely that someone is going to follow it here. I need you to take it out, and if you won’t, then find me a scalpel and I’ll do it myself.”

               Anna was shaking her head, with incredulity and horror in equal parts. “I can’t just take it out! I wouldn’t even know how. And if all of what you’ve said is true, then I _have_ to contact the police. The Sheriff here is a good man, he’ll be able to protect you while all this is sorted out.”

               “No police.” Derek shifted slightly, opening his jacket and allowing Anna a glimpse of the gun tucked into his belt.

               “Derek.” Sarah sounded the warning immediately. This wasn’t going to escalate into bloodshed, and she _really_ wasn’t in the mood to take another doctor hostage. “Anna, please, there isn’t time for me to explain everything, but the police can’t protect us. Just give me something to cut with and Derek can probably get it out. All I’m asking you to do is look the other way.”

               Anna glanced at Derek. He had crossed the room, away from her, where he would appear less of a threat, but his face was as set and serious as Sarah’s as they waited for her to answer. In the end, it wasn’t the gun that forced Anna’s hand, but the fact that Sarah was so desperately sure about everything that she was willing to let Derek carve into her.

“Okay, _okay_! I’ll do it. Shit. You have to understand, though, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

               “Fine.”

               “Give me a few minutes. I need to get some equipment together. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

               The door closed and Derek turned to Sarah. “Back in bed.”

               “She might just call the police. We need to move.” Her throat felt tight, as if it were trying to hold back a scream. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

               “Yes, because you absolutely should’ve known what that fuck did to you while you were unconscious. Not your fault, Sarah.”

               “They must know where we live.”

               “Safe bet.”

               “Oh God. John.”

               “…Is with the metal. I’ll call and give him a head’s up, but at the moment you seem to be the focus of their attention.” His cell phone was already in his hand and he hit the required code as John answered.

               “ETA, John, we may be in trouble here.”

~ ~ ~

               Outside Sarah’s room, Anna leaned with her back against the closed door and tried to steady her breathing. Derek hadn’t followed her out, which, she assumed, meant that he trusted her to keep her word. Whatever had happened to them, they were accustomed to living like this. To running and getting hurt and hiding. She almost believed them; she _did_ believe that someone had caused Sarah’s injuries, the proof there was irrefutable, but she certainly didn’t believe in their fantastical theories about tracking implants, and she finally concluded that the only way to convince them they were wrong was to take out the piece of metal and prove that. Then perhaps they would listen to her advice and report the incident to the police. Feeling a little calmer, Anna quickly made her way to the Emergency Room, to find a minor surgery tray before Derek came to look for her.

~ ~ ~

               “This is going to sting. Try and stay still for me.”

               Sarah hissed as the local anesthetic was injected, but she didn’t move an inch.

               “Good. Let me see the x-ray again.”

               Anna studied it, then shook her head in frustration. With a sinking feeling, she realized that there was no sign of a recent wound, nothing to indicate that the piece really was shrapnel from the accident. She tried to palpate around the area in an effort to determine where she needed to cut. “I think I can feel something here.” She kept her finger over the tiny irregularity. “You sure about this?”

               There was no hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

                Blood welled immediately in the wake of the scalpel and Anna swabbed it away, trying to keep her incision neat in the hope of leaving Sarah without another scar. Using a pair of forceps, she worked her way into the dense tissue, feeling around blindly and with increasing futility.

               “Dammit. I can’t find…” A change of direction, and there was the tiniest sensation of metal catching metal. She felt Sarah tense slightly as she opened the forceps into an area that the anesthetic hadn’t covered. “Sorry, sorry. I think I’ve got it.” She pulled, feeling the object snare and tug, and hearing Sarah’s teeth grind against each other. “Jesus.”

               Anna laid the piece of metal on Derek’s open palm. Even slick with blood, she could see the small wire embedded in the intricate design of the chip, and knew that they had been right, that it was man-made and that it had been inserted deliberately. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, as everything she had been so completely sure of was thrown into doubt. Not knowing what else to do, she squeezed Sarah’s hand gently as Derek crushed the fragment beneath his foot.

               “Just a couple of stitches, honey.” It was the same phrase she used in the Emergency Room, light, reassuring and completely inadequate. She knew that a couple of stitches weren’t going to be enough to repair the damage that had been done.

~ ~ ~

               In an unmarked SUV, a man watched in disbelief as the small red dot that he had been monitoring on the GPS screen suddenly flickered then disappeared altogether.

               “That fucking bitch.”

               Behind the wheel, his colleague accelerated without comment.

~ ~ ~


	6. Chapter 6

**~ ~ ~**

**_Never a Good Day… _6/6__**

~ ~ ~

** **

               “I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s madness! I could lose my job.” Anna had already disconnected Sarah from the monitor and was removing the IV line from her foot. “You’re not well enough to be leaving yet. Your pressure is still borderline, you’re still anemic, you only just had surgery, you’ll need physio…”

               Sarah cut her off. “I’ll be fine.”

               “You won’t _be fine_!”

               “I’ll be alive.”

               The simple statement made Anna pause. She studied Sarah, who was trying to swing her legs around but not making much headway. Derek moved to help her, dropping her legs off the side of the bed and guiding her forward, mindful of her fractured ribs.

               “How long until your people get here?” Resigning herself to the inevitable – no, they still didn’t want the police, yes, they really were leaving against her advice, and yes, any help she could provide would be gratefully accepted – Anna handed Sarah a set of scrubs.

               “Two hours, hopefully less.” Sarah had passed the scrubs to Derek. “I need this IV out.”

               Shaking her head, Anna opened a drawer and took out a small packet. “I’ll cap it off. Keep the line in. I can give you a couple of units of blood to take with you. You know what you’re doing with them?” This to Derek, who nodded. “Yeah, thought so. I can’t give you any morphine, it’s a controlled drug, but she’s going to need something.”

               “We’ll manage.” He knew that their own morphine stock was more than adequate, and that Sarah would undoubtedly downgrade herself to Tylenol as soon as she was away from the hospital. He looked at the scrubs he was holding. “Do you want me to give you a minute?” He didn’t think Sarah was too concerned about her modesty, not after today, but he still felt obliged to ask.

               Ever practical, she shook her head with a wry smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I could use a hand.”

               He didn’t comment, just helped her to untie and drop the gown from her shoulders, then wrestle the scrubs top over her head, as Anna threaded her feet into the trousers.

               “Think you can stand for a second so I can pull these up?” The skepticism in Anna’s question was unmistakeable**,** and Sarah would probably have ended up on the floor in an effort to try and prove the doctor wrong, had Derek not pre-empted her by moving to stand in front of her.

               “Hold onto my shoulders, Sarah.” Wrapping his arms around her, Derek kept her upright as she slipped off the bed and quickly realized that perhaps she wasn’t quite as recovered as she had hoped. “You okay?” He felt her nod against his neck, but she didn’t seem capable of actual speech. “C’mon, sit down before you fall down.”

               She went back onto the bed without a protest, eyes closed as she waited for the breathlessness to pass.

               “That’ll be the anemia I mentioned.” Anna couldn’t help the slightly smug undertone, but the concern in her voice was more prominent. “Look, stay here as long as you can. I’ll bring you something to eat. I already told the night staff not to let anyone know that you’re here. They’re all curious as hell, but they won’t say anything, and they just think I’m pulling a double shift as usual.” Sarah’s eyes were open now, but she looked so exhausted that Anna put all her reservations aside in an effort to just make things smoother for them. “When you leave, you’re better using the West Entrance, it’s a supply one. There won’t be anyone around at this time of night…”

~ ~ ~

               The cell phone vibrated only once before Derek answered it. John’s voice, curt and stressed, on the other end.

               “West Entrance, fifteen minutes. My mom okay?”

               “She’s okay.” Derek kept his voice low, glancing at Sarah as she dozed fitfully. “She ate Jello, somehow managed not to puke. Now she’s asleep.”

               His succinct update surprised a bark of laughter out of John. “She _must_ be feeling like shit, she hates that stuff. See you in fifteen.” The call disconnected.

Everything was ready. A bag packed with medical supplies and the spare units of blood was sitting on a wheelchair, and Anna had even found a jacket for Sarah in the lost property box. The doctor was due back any minute. Derek reached over reluctantly to wake Sarah, but she sensed his movement before he had the chance and opened her eyes, instantly alert.

               “Is it time?”

               He nodded. “Yes, time to go.”

~ ~ ~

               Checking her watch, Anna locked her office and began to make her way back to Sarah’s room. She had promised to help them to the entrance, mindful of the fact that Sarah could barely stand and Derek could barely walk.

               “Doctor Matthews!” The young receptionist had obviously been on her way to find Anna and looked immensely relieved to have done so.

               “Something wrong, Elise?” Anna hoped against hope that they had just run out of admission forms again, or that Mike the unruly drunk had decided to bed down in the waiting room, but she suspected that she was about to be disappointed.

               “There’s a man.” The receptionist’s voice was hushed, conspiratorial. “At the desk. He’s asking about the woman.”

               Shit. This wasn’t fair. Anna had already admitted to herself that she had probably been wrong about everything; she didn’t need any further proof turning up to rub it in. But somehow thinking about it in these terms stopped her from being as terrified as she otherwise would have been.

               “What have you told him?”

               “Nothing, but he won’t go away. Is he with the police?”

               “Did you recognize him?” It was a fair question; the town had a small police force who were all known to the local residents, and Anna allowed herself to hope, for a second.

               “No! Maybe he’s FBI.”

               “Maybe.” Anna knew there was no way in hell that Sheriff Morgan would let the FBI run around on his turf without him being there to interfere as much as humanly possible. “Elise, why don’t you go and get a coffee? I’ll speak to him, okay?”

               The receptionist nodded slowly, torn between wanting to know what was going on and not wanting to go and deal with the man who had given her a serious case of the creeps.

               “Okay,” Anna repeated, as Elise headed to the staffroom and she walked towards the reception area. “Oh, FBI my ass.”

               The man in question, who looked like the archetype of muscle for hire, had moved behind the abandoned desk and was working his way through the files in one of the trays. He wouldn’t find anything - all of Sarah’s notes were securely locked in her office - but his actions made Anna’s blood boil.

               “Can I ask what you’re doing, sir?”

               He looked up immediately, and walked unhurriedly to the front of the desk, not at all concerned that he had been caught in the act. “I need information on a woman who was treated here.”

               “A lot of women are treated here. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

               Ten minutes. Ten minutes to stall him and allow Sarah and Derek to get to the other side of the hospital. She wasn’t going to be able to help them with that; this was going to be her only opportunity now to ensure their safety.

               “Do you have her name, sir? Then I can run it through the computer.”

               “No, just a description. Approximately thirty-five years of age, five foot six, long brown hair. She was involved in a car accident.”

               Over his shoulder, Anna could see a black SUV with tinted windows and the engine still running, obstructing the ambulance bay.

               “Right.” She forgot to be scared of him; his arrogance was pissing her off. “As you don’t know this woman’s name, I’m going to assume that you’re not a relative. You need to fill your details in on this form, then I can perform a basic computer search and confirm whether someone fitting her description was treated here or not.”

               The man was gripping the form in one hand while the other, clenched into a fist, rested on top of the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw two security guards make a conspicuous approach, and she silently thanked Elise for having had the presence of mind to alert them.

The man noticed them too and softened his stance somewhat. “I’m going to need a pen.”

               “Certainly, sir.” Anna smiled and handed one to him. Just five more minutes. “Be sure to fill out both sides…”

~ ~ ~

               The doctor wasn’t coming. Derek was sure of that now. For all he knew, she had finally lost her nerve and was on the phone to the authorities.

               “We’ll have to go.” He eyed the wheelchair with a sinking feeling; he couldn’t push it and use crutches, but limping with the chair was going to take far too long.

               Sarah was following his train of thought, and called a swift halt to his deliberations. “I’ll walk.”

               “Sarah…”

               “Don’t argue. Anna’s not coming, which means something’s fucked up. If you can manage the bag, I can walk.”

               There wasn’t time to debate the issue. He slung the bag over his shoulder and reached out to steady her as she stood up. She allowed herself to hang onto his arm for no more than a couple of seconds before she straightened, using her right arm to splint her ribs.

               “I’m fine.” She gave him a quick smile when he tucked her Glock into the front of her trousers and pulled her jacket across her to conceal it, then she nodded towards the door. “Go.”

~ ~ ~

               He had memorized the route: first left, third right, straight across a junction and left again to the entrance. It had looked so much shorter on the map. Beside him, he could hear Sarah’s ragged breathing, but she was keeping up with him, and the only staff member they had encountered was a janitor, who told them to be careful on the wet floor and paid them no further attention.

               The junction came and went, the corridor sloping down into a dimly-lit area cluttered with empty supply cages and industrial-sized laundry bags.

               “Left here.”

               Sarah made an affirmative-sounding noise, and followed him. Neither of them was particularly functioning at the top of their game; both were exhausted and in pain, but they drew their guns simultaneously at the hollow sound of footsteps as they turned the corner.

               “Fuck.” Derek spat the curse out as he almost overbalanced.

               Sarah didn’t have the energy to do anything other than drop her gun-hand down and lean against the wall as Cameron walked towards them.

               The machine looked them up and down, then took Derek’s bag and placed an arm around Sarah’s waist. Her face was impassive.

               “You’re late.”

~ ~ ~

               “Get in the back and stay low.” Cameron opened the rear door of the Dodge as John clambered out from the driver’s side and ran around to help.

               “Oh shit, mom.” He stopped short of Sarah, not sure where he could touch her without hurting her, but she reached for him with her good hand and pulled him tightly to her.

               “John, we need to go.” The SUV had been a conspicuous presence as they had driven past the ambulance bay, and Cameron, not permitting herself to be distracted from their mission, was already in the front seat of the Dodge, a shotgun poised in her hands.

John nodded reluctantly, breaking the embrace and helping Sarah settle in the back of the truck before returning to the driver’s side.

               Staying low wasn’t going to be an issue for Sarah. She curled up with her head on Derek’s knees and closed her eyes as he leaned down over her. “We can’t go home.” That house had never really been a home, but the thought of uprooting John again still made its loss hurt.

               Scrutinizing the darkness through the window, Cameron acknowledged her with a nod. “33-42-31 North. The safe-house coordinates in the desert. I’ve programmed them into the navigation system.”

               “Good. That’s good.” Sarah shouldn’t have been surprised; she had mentioned the location to Cameron once, over a year ago, and the machine had obviously considered it important enough information to store.

They had left the hospital grounds and were making steady progress out of the small town. No one had followed them, her son was safe, and, despite being battered and bruised, she and Derek were alive. She took a slow breath, then another, and felt some of the relentless tension begin to leave her.

~ ~ ~

               It was bright beneath her eyelids, and the air was warm and scented. Sarah gave herself a minute to lie still and enjoy being comfortable and pain-free, before she realized that there was a hand holding hers. She opened her eyes to reassure whoever it was by her side.

               “Hey.” Her voice was rough, but her son smiled at her regardless, a slight flush on his cheeks at being caught holding her hand.

               “Hey yourself. How you feelin’?”

               “How do I look?” Her standard answer, and John’s smile broadened with recognition.

               “Actually, slightly better than you did. You sort of passed out in the truck and scared us all, but Derek’s got you hooked up again and it seems to be doing the trick.”

               She followed his eye-line, noticing the blood transfusion for the first time. He held a glass of water for her and she sipped it gratefully.

               “Thanks.”

               “You in any pain?”

               She shook her head. “I’m guessing your uncle also doped me at the same time he set that going?”

His eyes wide with feigned innocence, he held his hands open. “I really wouldn’t know.” It made her smile and he grinned back, before his expression sobered. “You had me worried, mom. I’m glad you’re okay.”

               She could only nod, remembering in a rush everything that she loved and admired about her son, and hoping that, if nothing else came out of this miserable episode, it might at least provide a fresh start for them both.

               “I’ll tell Derek that you’re awake.” He kissed the top of her head. “Love you.”

               “I love you too.”

Already halfway to the door, John hesitated, as if surprised that she had actually said it, and he gave her a quick but delighted smile before continuing out of the room.

Leaning back into the pillows, Sarah watched him go, then raised her hand to her face and wiped the tears away before they fell. She knew that they were only tears of relief, but she had cried enough over the past couple of days. She pushed herself up the bed slightly, ignoring the jolt of pain in her ribs. She felt stronger, just for sitting upright. She wanted a shower and something solid to eat, and to know what had been happening with Kaliba while Derek had been busy drugging her into oblivion. She leaned back, knowing that all of those things would happen in good time. The breeze from the window slowly cooled her face and, closing her eyes with unexpected pleasure, she let it wash over her.

~ ~ ~

               “Comfortable?”

               “Mmhm.”

               Derek draped the thick blanket over Sarah’s knees and sat down beside her. “Cheers.” He clicked his beer against her bottle of juice, and laughed as she noted then frowned at her non-alcoholic offering.

               “You’re still on pain meds.” He sounded quite smug.

               “So are you.”

               “Yeah, but I’m not taking mine.”

               “Gonna be limping for a while then, aren’t you?”

               “Probably. Still…” He took a long drink. “It’s worth it for the beer.”

               She smiled and shook her head at him, then looked out from their vantage point on the dilapidated porch. “I love it here.”

               The sun was setting over the expanse of sand and coarse vegetation, low clouds burning at the edges with pink and orange.

               “Lot of it to love.” There was nothing for miles around. Cameron’s trip to pack up the essentials from their old house had taken the best part of two days and cost the life of the sole Kaliba operative who had been left on a stake-out there. Cameron had found papers in his truck: an address, several names, a company badge. All potential leads that needed investigating.

               “Here.”

               Sarah heard the familiar snap and laughed quietly as Derek handed her a piece of chocolate. “Sure you got enough to spare?”

               “Stockpile, remember? Besides, you have to eat it quickly out here or it fucking melts everywhere.”

               “Won’t be here forever. Got things to do.”

               “Yes we have.”

               “Not tonight though.” She licked her fingers, stole Derek’s beer and helped herself to a mouthful.

               “No, not tonight.” He let her have the beer, and uncapped another one for himself. “I have a feeling that you’re going to be sleeping quite soundly tonight.”

               “That would be lovely.”

She smiled and drank again, unrepentant, and he shook his head hopelessly. She was right though, it _was_ beautiful here and, after everything that had happened, it was a perfect and timely reminder of exactly why they continued to fight. He swung his feet up onto the low table beside hers, and heard her settle down in her seat and sigh contentedly. They had earned this; even though it wouldn’t last, even though they still had work to do, they had earned this temporary peace. He drank his beer, leaned his head back and watched as the sun set the sky on fire.

 

 

~ ~ ~ End ~ ~ ~


End file.
